


Broken Boy

by ya_idjits



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Crying, Cutting, Lots of it, Self Harm, Teen Wolf, badass wolves, baes, don't read if this triggers you, ehh, erica is also my bae, i've officially changed isaac's named to bae, it's not that descriptive but i still worry, movin' quick kinda fic, please don't read this if self harm is a trigger, self harm trigger warning, self harm warning, this whole thing is just me venting my isaac feels via a lil tiny autobiography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:06:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ya_idjits/pseuds/ya_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac has to deal with everything somehow, right? But he really shouldn't have rolled his sleeves up.</p><p>Please don't read this if self harm is a trigger for you. It's not that detailed, but I still worry. I don't want to hurt anyone, I just needed to expend my personal feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Boy

“The hell is that?”

Isaac automatically ducks his head and yanks his sleeves down. “Nothing.”

“Oh, bullshit. Show me.”

Isaac glares at her and clenches the hem of his sleeve with pale, slender fingers. “You’re my friend, Erica, not my mom.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I care any less. Now show me your damn arm, Isaac.”

He and Erica stare at each other. He tries to count her individual eyelashes to see if the number has changed from the last time he counted them (the time when Boyd lost control and Isaac had a panic attack in the lockdown room because it was smaller than he expected). Erica lets her eyes glow yellow, showing her tenacity. Sighing, Isaac slumps his shoulders and looks around, reassuring himself that no one else is there. He turns back to Erica and slowly rolls his left sleeve back up, revealing scabbed scarlet slits that criss-cross up to his elbow.

“Jesus,” Erica breathes, gently taking her friend’s hand between her own. She rubs the outside of Isaac’s forearm soothingly, carefully avoiding the cuts. Glancing up, she notices that Isaac is staring straight at her and gives him a questioning look. Then she realises – he’s reading her, trying to gauge her reaction. But he looks... _surprised_ at the expression on her face. 

“You’re not…disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” Erica echoes. “I’ve just found out that my best friend self-harms and you think I’m _disgusted?_ ”

“What else would you be?”

“Well, I’m upset, for one –“

Isaac snorts and looks away.

“Really, Is? Yes, I’m a werewolf. Yes, I’m a bitch. Yes, I might have recently turned into an angry, sarcastic killing machine.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, searching for a response, but all she’s met with is the blue-grey gaze of a broken boy. She nudges his shoulder, but he remains still and silent - almost as if he's holding his breath. So she continues, slowly getting more upset. “Derek’s too emotionally constipated to teach us how to deal with wolfy feelings, so anger’s really the only thing any of us can resort to right now, isn’t it? Anger's the only thing any of us can _connect_ to. Remember... remember that day at school? The day before I got turned, when I was climbing the rock wall. Everyone was watching me, and I freaked out. All I could feel was fear. I don't... feel that anymore. Dunno about you, Is, but I haven't been scared since the bite. It's been, what, three months?" Isaac tries not to focus on the tremor in her lip. "But - fear or no fear - I can still get upset. I can still cry, I’m _allowed_ to break down if I find out my friend has been slitting his damn wrists –“

A dry, painful sob bubbles up in her throat and Isaac leans in to catch her as she slumps forwards. He strokes her hair and presses kisses to her crown, entangling her in his arms and humming off-key Crowded House that echoes around the train car because he knows that’s her favourite band. And isn’t it funny, how _he’s_ comforting _her?_ But this is Erica. Sassy, closed off Erica - who's only ever felt comfortable around as many people as Isaac can count on one hand - just poured her soul out. Then again, Isaac supposes that his cutting is some shocking news to take in. Especially because knows he “doesn’t seem like the type”.

“When?” Erica chokes out against his chest.

“A few years ago, when dad started to get really bad,” he murmurs. He pauses for a second, remembering his sleeves. He hadn't even thought twice about rolling them up when their training session had gotten too sweaty. “I had to stop wearing summer clothes.”

She looks up at him, and he’s never seen her like this before. There’s fresh desperation in her tear-crowded eyes, and it’s _heartbreaking._

“All summer clothes?" She asks with a croaky voice, wincing when he nods. "Your thighs, too?” she whispers.

He hesitates before nodding again.

“Oh, _Is,_ ” she breathes, slumping back into his chest. He strokes her back as she calms down, rocking her back and forth gently and getting used to her fingers clenching and unclenching the soft cotton of his shirt between her shaky fingers. _Breathe in, breathe out,_ he instructs himself. Erica follows his lead, exhaling warm air onto his collarbone.

“I dip my blade in wolfsbane so that they take longer to heal,” he says calmly when her breathing is back to normal.

“Yeah?” she says, looking up at him.

“Yeah. It’s almost like I’m human again.”

Erica’s eyebrows knit and she tenses up before Isaac leans down to press his lips against her forehead.

“It’s painful,” she mumbles. “It’s painful for me, too.”

Isaac pulls back and stares at her. He looks utterly bewildered as to why his pain would affect anyone else. “Why?”

“Because I _care_ , you dumbass wolf! You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had, you’re like my _brother._ Of course I care.”

They sit there in the wrecked train car, clutching each other, and play their favourite calming down game - the one where they try to get their heartbeats in sync.

“I’m just glad you didn’t ask why,” Isaac says. “All the other people who’ve ever found out, the first thing out of their mouths is ‘why?’ ‘why do you do it?’ And it’s just,” he exhales angrily through his nose. “It’s just a really dumb question. Like, I don’t have to have a _reason,_ leave me alone.”

“Okay,” she nods. “I’ll never ask why.”

His face softens, and he looks at her with affection bright in his eyes.

“Thanks.” He pauses. “For understanding. And…for caring.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” she replies.

When their heartbeats are finally synchronised, Isaac smiles.


End file.
